


By Invitation Only

by Capriccio



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Reincarnation, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-18
Updated: 2013-03-18
Packaged: 2017-12-05 18:49:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/726682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Capriccio/pseuds/Capriccio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur wasn’t sure why he and Merlin were always invited to the same weddings—or why they shared the same memories from the past—but he wasn’t above making a spectacle of himself as he tried to figure it out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	By Invitation Only

**Author's Note:**

> Originally [posted here](http://merlin-games.livejournal.com/52183.html) for merlin_games as an entry from Team Reincarnation. Written for the prompt “Let’s give them something to talk about.” Thank you to my Team, especially to incapricious and significantowl, for their betaing and support.
> 
> Also [available here on LJ](http://capricornucopia.livejournal.com/13234.html).

Arthur caught a swirl of colour from the corner of his eye and looked up from his computer screen to see Morgana hovering expectantly in his office doorway. Arthur squinted blearily at her.

“Good morning,” Morgana said as soon as she had his attention, and breezed into Arthur’s office without permission. “Mail!” she continued cheerfully, and dropped a bundle on Arthur’s mahogany desk.

Arthur eyed her and the mail suspiciously. “Do you not have enough to do? Or is this your latest attempt to take over my father’s company by delivering anthrax to everyone in your way?”

Morgana’s mouth curved into a smile as she tapped a manicured fingernail against Arthur’s desk impatiently. “No. I wouldn’t wait around to see you open your mail if I had, would I? And anyway, I brought you this,” she said, and produced a cup and saucer of steaming hot coffee seemingly out of thin air. She had even used the good china.

Arthur made an undignified grab at the cup—Morgana only deigned to use her secret blend of coffee beans on the good china—and took a sip. He sank back in his chair with a contented sigh, savouring the jolt of caffeine. Although he would never admit it to his father, Arthur was almost willing to keep Morgana on the payroll just to make coffee. She had an unparalleled way with coffee machines, and Arthur had never tasted better than Morgana’s secret blend that Arthur had dubbed her ‘witch’s brew’.

Feeling a bit more amiable and ready to face the world, Arthur conceded Morgana’s petty victory and began sorting through his mail idly as he sipped at his coffee. It would be no use telling Morgana to go away: it was easier to move mountains than to change her mind once she had her claws in something. Arthur had no idea what Morgana found so interesting about his mail until he came across a lavender envelope with scalloped edges. He sniffed it suspiciously and yes, it was scented as well. Arthur scowled down at it fiercely.

Morgana tilted her head at him innocently. “Something the matter?” she asked.

Arthur ignored her and reached for his letter opener. He twirled it idly between his fingers, briefly considered using it as a weapon against Morgana’s verbal attacks, but thought better of it and quickly opened the envelope to retrieve the invitation inside. Arthur’s frown deepened as he read:

_Guinevere Smith_  
 _and_  
 _Lancelot du Lac_  
 _request the honour of your presence at their marriage_  
 _on Saturday the thirteenth of April_  
 _Two thousand thirteen_  
 _at eleven o’clock_  
 _725 Northumbria Way_

“Another one?” Arthur asked, dismayed. “I hate weddings.”

Morgana unsuccessfully tried to hide her amusement. “You were at their engagement party, remember? But I suppose you were a bit too preoccupied to pay much attention.” Arthur snapped his head up and gave Morgana his best glare. Oblivious, she continued, “You do seem to enjoy being thoroughly debauched whenever you attend these kinds of things.”

“That’s not true in the slightest,” Arthur said defensively.

“My mistake,” Morgana said, to Arthur’s relief, but added a moment later, “Let me rephrase that: you seem to enjoy being thoroughly debauched at these things whenever a certain other guest attends. You would have thought it was your own engagement party the way you two were carrying on.”

Arthur didn’t bother to dignify that with an answer. He drained the rest of his coffee, setting it down on the saucer with a clink, and pointedly turned back to his computer.

“Ignoring me doesn’t make me wrong,” Morgana said, rolling her eyes and taking her leave. She turned back to Arthur as she reached the doorway. “Did I mention that Gwen asked me to be the maid of honour?”

“You’re neither a maid nor have any honour,” Arthur said, raising an eyebrow loftily.

Morgana smiled terrifyingly in return, and delivered her killing blow. “It must have also slipped my mind to tell you that Merlin was asked to be the best man,” she said with studied indifference. She waved her fingers at him as she left.

Arthur stared at the empty doorway for a moment in complete horror. “Shit,” he muttered, and tried very hard not to bang his head against his desk.

____

Arthur cast a critical eye across the du Lac parlour, making a few minor adjustments to the decor before the ceremony. He moved smoothly around the room to adjust the angle of a chair here, or to shift a flower arrangement there.

“Ever the perfectionist, I see,” a voice from behind him said.

Arthur straightened up slowly from fixing a fold on the carpet before gathering enough courage to turn around. Sure enough, Merlin was dressed to the nines in a dove grey three-piece suit with a crimson rose in his lapel, making Arthur’s hands long to slide up and underneath his waistcoat and undress him. Arthur cleared his throat nervously. “Merlin,” he said coolly, trying to keep his voice steady.

“They’ve got you on decorating duty, then?” Merlin asked, grinning. He held out a hand in greeting.

“They didn’t want you mucking things up is more likely,” Arthur said, before swallowing hard and reaching out to grasp Merlin’s hand. He felt a familiar warmth spread across his skin when their fingers touched. Arthur saw Merlin’s eyes widen fractionally, and felt his pulse speed up in response.

Merlin blinked at Arthur, then glanced away and back. “Sorry about the whole wedding party business,” he continued after a moment. “They wanted a small wedding, and with Elyan in town, any more than that they said—”

“—It would feel too formal,” Arthur finished for him, waving a hand dismissively. “I know. Lancelot made it up to me. I’ve special permission to say absolutely anything I want to during the toast.”

“Impressive,” Merlin admitted, smiling at Arthur in a way that would surely land them in trouble.

Arthur fiddled with a rose stem to keep his hands busy. “When I first heard the news that you were the best man, I thought maybe there had been a mistake. I was almost sure you’d be a bridesmaid instead of Elena or Morgana,” he said lightly.

Merlin rolled his eyes. “Gwen did ask me to stand up on her side, but in the end she made Lancelot ask me to be best man just so he wouldn’t have to end up asking you.”

Arthur let out an exaggerated sigh. “I think the wedding turned Lancelot’s head. I don’t know how on earth he thought that giving _you_ the ring would be a good idea.”

Merlin looked panicked for a moment, then reached a hand into his jacket and patted his inner pocket reassuringly. “Ring’s still here,” he said, grinning sheepishly, relief evident in his voice.

“Good man. At least the only other thing you have to do is stand up there and look pretty,” Arthur said, and allowed himself a momentary glance at Merlin’s frame. “I think even you can manage that,” he continued, and, horrified at his traitorous mouth, promptly turned his back on Merlin and pretended to busy himself with the carpet some more before he forgot himself again.

Arthur always forgot—although Arthur’s cock apparently didn’t—how good Merlin looked in a three-piece suit. Merlin didn’t even know it, either, and walked around obliviously in dove greys that brought out his eyes, trousers cut perfectly to show off his arse, and crimson flowers that Arthur found irresistible on him, and then topped it all off with a disarming nervousness that made Arthur want to throw him down and fuck him until his clothes were in ruins.

Fortunately, Elena chose that moment to trip and break a heel, shouting loudly for help. Merlin scurried off to her assistance, and Arthur made good his escape, hiding among the flower arrangements until the ceremony started.

After intense deliberation, Arthur decided to seat himself on the groom’s side, coincidentally in the seat with the best view of Merlin. Gwen looked resplendent in her mother’s wedding dress as she walked down the aisle on her father’s arm, and Elyan’s soft smile showed how happy he was. Elena began bawling loudly as soon as the wedding march started, and dabbed furiously at her eyes with her bouquet. Next to her, try as she might, even Morgana couldn’t hide behind her evil demeanour for long, and beamed at Gwen and Lancelot both.

Lancelot looked ready to flee at any moment until he caught sight of Gwen. When he did, his smile and the joy in his eyes lit up the room. Arthur sat back to watch Merlin grin like a maniac until the vows were spoken and it was time to exchange rings. Lancelot turned to Merlin, barely taking his eyes off Gwen. Merlin slid the ring out of his pocket and promptly dropped it on the carpet. Merlin turned red to his ears, and by the time he picked the ring up and polished it off to hand it to a laughing Lancelot, Arthur was shifting subtly in his chair, very nearly desperate. It wasn’t quite fair that Merlin looked devastatingly handsome in a three-piece suit _and_ had to be blushing to the tips of his ridiculous ears at the same time. Arthur was a man who knew and respected his limits, and he was well past them by now.

As soon as Gwen and Lancelot were officially pronounced married and had received their congratulations all around, the guests made their way into the kitchen for the luncheon. Arthur caught Merlin by the collar just before the kitchen.

“What?” Merlin asked, startled, still pink around the cheekbones, and then saw Arthur and _blushed harder_. “Oh. Er, they need help with lunch and—”

Arthur didn’t let him finish, and bypassed the bathroom—too obvious, even for them—and simply manhandled Merlin into the broom closet Arthur had scoped out earlier when looking for more chairs.

“Really can’t wait that long, Merlin,” Arthur said breathlessly, and barely waited for Merlin’s, “Oh. Right,” before sliding his hands into Merlin’s trousers and unzipping them. Arthur was on his knees in the closet with his mouth on Merlin’s cock before the door was even properly closed.

“Arthur,” Merlin gasped and shuddered, digging his fingers into Arthur’s hair and tilting his hips forward, pushing deeper in Arthur’s mouth. And this was what Arthur had been aching for all throughout the ceremony, all morning, all the weeks leading up to the wedding ever since he had received that damned invitation on his desk.

Arthur swallowed Merlin down desperately, bringing him in deep until he felt Merlin tense as he came. Savouring the taste of Merlin’s release on his tongue, Arthur barely managed to anchor himself by curling one hand around Merlin’s hip as he undid his own trousers clumsily with his other hand. Damn Merlin. Arthur was so close already, ready to come in his trousers—all he needed was the barest of touches. As if he could read Arthur’s mind, Merlin slid his hand around to the back of Arthur’s neck, and it was the brush of Merlin’s fingers on his skin that pushed him over the edge. Arthur was coming and—

_—Merlin’s hands were busy doing up the laces on Arthur’s tunic, his long fingers darting in and out, just barely grazing Arthur’s skin. When he caught Arthur staring at him, he only grinned his ridiculous grin before frowning back down at the laces in concentration. He finished tying the laces and gave Arthur a final pat on the chest before stepping back, giving Arthur a small smile with the look in his eyes that Arthur had never been able to name. Arthur then—_  


—threw his head back with a gasp, blinking the images away, and almost toppled forward on his knees before Merlin’s hands caught and steadied him.

“Arthur, Arthur. Shit,” Merlin said. He sounded terrified. He scrambled to the floor, holding onto Arthur’s shoulders.

Arthur panted heavily until he had his breathing back under control. He leaned a moment more against Merlin’s hands, then pushed away and stood up on shaky legs to put his clothing back in order.

“Arthur,” Merlin said quietly, standing up to meet him at eye level. “What did you see?”

Arthur felt his face harden at Merlin’s question, but the couldn’t find it in himself to pretend to Merlin. “We—you,” he began haltingly, and took a deep breath. He had no words to describe the longing he felt for Merlin during that glimpse of the past, the traces of it still echoing through him now, or how to describe the sense of loss, of an opportunity missed, that he always came away with when his memories ended.

Merlin said nothing, just watched him closely and waited.

“You were fixing my clothing. Dressing me,” Arthur said at last, his words feeling empty. “Your fingers...” he trailed off, glancing at Merlin’s fingers. He felt the memory of them brushing across his skin, and suppressed a shiver.

“What else were we doing?” Merlin asked, his eyes searching Arthur’s.

Arthur glanced away, busying himself with his tie. He cleared his throat. “That’s all we were doing,” he said. Merlin frowned at him, but Arthur wasn’t in the mood to talk. “Well, you were still wearing that cloth around your neck. You looked absurd, as always,” he added brusquely.

“Of course,” Merlin said, and smiled just a little. Arthur felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. “Anything else?” Merlin asked, his brow furrowing. “Any other clues?”

“No,” Arthur said shortly. “You didn’t see anything.” It wasn’t precisely a question.

“No, no this time,” Merlin said softly. He shook his head and sighed. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

Arthur nodded. He closed his eyes briefly, willing the last of his unease away. He opened them again to look at Merlin. “Come on, then. They’ll be wondering where we’ve been,” he said.

Merlin’s mouth twitched. “Probably not.”

Arthur winced in agreement. “This is your fault,” he said firmly. He stepped toward Merlin to smooth out his tie and make sure his trousers were zipped. Merlin sighed, submitting to the treatment, and Arthur felt the beginnings of a smile tugging at his mouth. After double-checking that his own clothing was presentable, Arthur opened the door to the broom closet and peeked out. “Coast is clear,” he said, and gestured for Merlin to step out before him.

“Thanks,” Merlin said, and as he brushed past Arthur, he darted back and pressed his lips to Arthur’s for a fleeting moment. Before Arthur could react, Merlin had vanished to the kitchen. The kiss, natural and without thought, was enough to make Arthur forget himself long enough to walk into the kitchen right on Merlin’s heels without even the token several minutes’ delay for plausible deniability. The kiss was almost worth the varying looks—ranging from disbelief, exasperation, and all-knowing—from the guests he received for it.

Almost.

____

“Arthur,” Uther said. “I’m glad I caught you.” He stepped into Arthur’s office, nursing a cup of coffee.

Arthur looked up from tidying his desk, and narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the coffee cup. “Has Morgana got to you too?”

Uther chuckled. “Indeed. I thought you were exaggerating at first, but perhaps I was mistaken.”

Arthur snorted, and hunted around for his tablet’s polishing cloth.

“You’re off to a wedding again, was it?” Uther asked, smiling.

“Yes.” Arthur paused briefly. “It’s at a lakeside resort, an hour from Ealdor. A friend of a—an acquaintance's wedding,” he amended quickly, keeping his hands busy as he finally found the polishing cloth and tucked it along with the tablet into its protective case. The less Uther knew about Arthur’s behaviour at weddings the better.

“Ah, excellent,” Uther said, and Arthur was amused to see him looking wistful. “A summer wedding. Your mother and I were married on the hottest day of the year—outside, no less. The guests were miserable, and the ice sculptures were puddles before noon. The frosting on the cake melted right off.”

“And you had the pastry chef pipe in a whole new layer of icing, even though it wasn’t the same colour,” Arthur said, smiling in turn. “You tell that story every year.”

Uther laughed. “And I will again this year. Our thirtieth anniversary. Sometimes it seems like only yesterday I saw your mother coming down the aisle and felt as if that was the greatest moment of my life.” He blinked, breaking out of his reverie, and clapped Arthur on the shoulder warmly. “Then I look at you and feel as if that was only the beginning of our happiness.”

“Father,” Arthur said, embarrassed at the praise. A lingering thought made him wonder what kind of man Uther would have been without Ygraine at his side.

Uther’s smile broadened. “Do try and bring someone to the anniversary party next month. We don’t want an odd number at the head table, do we?” he asked.

Arthur bit back a sigh. “No, Father.”

“Good,” Uther said, and began heading back to his own office. “I’ll let you finish tidying up before you leave. Don’t forget to ring your mother before you leave. You know she worries about you on long trips.”

“Yes, Father,” Arthur replied automatically. He spoke to Ygraine before he left, assuring her that he was fully prepared for the weekend, and offered to help with the anniversary planning the following weekend.

As he got into his car for the long drive to Ealdor, Arthur wondered why he had been invited to Will and Freya’s wedding in the first place. His initial reaction at receiving the invitation—after his natural and automatic loathing for fancy invitations in general—had been complete surprise. He had no doubt that Will hated him, as the feeling was mutual. Freya he had only met twice: the first during one of Merlin’s birthday parties that he was bullied by Gwen into attending, and the second when Freya had been caught in the crossfire and arrested during an environmental rally that had turned violent. Arthur had driven down to the jail to post her bail, which had been simple enough—there had been no need for Merlin to be in absolute hysterics along the way.

Arthur gripped his steering wheel tightly. Arthur had almost declined the invitation to avoid Merlin and yet another smirch on his virtue, but he made the mistake of perusing Will and Freya’s wedding registry and knew he could get an excellent price for a lovely set of their chosen dinnerware—apparently at least Freya had impeccable taste—on their list. It seemed only polite after that to accept the invitation, Merlin notwithstanding.

His foot on the gas pedal, Arthur made it to the lakeside resort in record time. He stepped out of his car, enjoying the view of the sparkling lake and the sound of joyful voices in the distance. He stepped into the main entrance to check in, and was startled to see Hunith, Merlin’s mother, behind the front desk.

“Arthur!” Hunith said happily. “So glad you made it. Come right in. Merlin’s in the back helping with the food, but he should be out soon when I tell him you’ve arrived.”

“Hunith, lovely to see you again,” Arthur said politely. He shook her hand, deliberately ignoring her last remark. “I had no idea you worked here.”

Hunith laughed. “Yes, I’ve just started here. Special employee discount, and my gift to the bride and groom. We’ve blocked a whole set of rooms in the east wing. I have Room 15 booked for you,” she said, her fingers typing busily on the computer in front of her as she talked. “Will and Freya and a few of the guests are by the lake. Freya is as happy as a lark, but I would avoid Will if I were you. He’s a nervous wreck and looks daggers at anyone who he even thinks will upset Freya.”

“Good to know,” Arthur said in a low voice, leaning toward Hunith conspiratorially. “It supports my theory that this is all some sort of plot by Will to get me killed. I don’t know why else I was invited.”

“Freya can never say enough good things about you. She’ll always be grateful to you for helping her. Plus, I think Merlin may have called in a favour or two from Will,” Hunith said, beaming at Arthur. Before Arthur could do more than gape at her, she handed him his room key and shooed him away. “We’ve set the barbecue up by the lake, so go on and get settled, and meet us there.”

Through tremendous effort, Arthur managed to keep his dignity intact all the way to his room.

____

“Your _mother_ , Merlin!” Arthur said, shoving Merlin up against the bedroom door and pressing hard kisses down Merlin’s neck.

“I—ah—I didn’t tell her!” Merlin said, gasping. His hands moved urgently down Arthur’s back, and slid underneath his shirt to glide across his skin. Arthur inwardly cursed Merlin’s fingers for the thousandth time.

“She was smiling at me all throughout the dinner,” Arthur said. He licked eagerly at the hollow of Merlin’s throat to make his point clear.

Merlin swallowed another gasp, and his eyelashes fluttered most attractively. “Freya talks about you a lot. Maybe she let it slip?”

“And how exactly does Freya know?” Arthur asked reasonably into the crook of Merlin’s neck.

“Or maybe Will told her?” Merlin offered. “Not there, we have pictures tomorrow,” he added, flinching away from Arthur’s mouth.

Arthur grumbled a protest against Merlin’s neck before quickly stripping Merlin of his t-shirt and biting down sharply on his collarbone instead. “Will _would_ tell your mum, wouldn’t he? Your mum even gave me an extra helping of sausage.”

“You _like_ sausage,” Merlin said, sounding baffled. He grabbed Arthur’s arse to pull him closer and squeezed. Bastard.

“Was that a joke?” Arthur demanded. He reached into Merlin’s swimming trunks— _swimming trunks_ , dear God, it was a miracle Arthur ever made it through the barbecue—and began stroking him roughly. “How does she _know_?”

Merlin moaned, arching into Arthur’s hand. “Could we please stop talking about my mother while we’re having sex?” he asked wildly.

“Right, sorry,” Arthur said. He pushed Merlin onto the bed and climbed in after him.

____

A loud banging on the door accompanied by angry shouting from Will calling Merlin’s name woke Arthur up. Groaning, Arthur opened his eyes sluggishly and squinted at the door. “What’s that idiot on about this time?” he asked. He yanked more of the blankets from Merlin’s side of the bed, and hid his head under his pillow.

Merlin stirred beside him as Will continued banging on the door, but made no response.

“He’s your best friend. Tell him to shut up,” Arthur said irritably.

“I swear to God, Merlin,” Will continued to bellow, “If you’re late for the photos, I’m going to kick your arse—I don’t care if Arthur’s already in it.”

Merlin tumbled out of bed and scrambled into his pants quickly at that. He opened the door a crack. “My _mum’s_ here, Will, shut up!” he said, sounding panicked.

“Yeah? Did you care about that last night? Didn’t think so. Why the hell did you even bother to book separate rooms, anyway? And what the hell was _I_ doing, listening to you two get it on last night? It’s my wedding, I’m the one supposed to be getting laid!” Will shouted back.

Arthur flung the covers away. “That bastard,” he hissed, and stalked toward the door, not caring that he was naked. He flung open the door to face Will. “ _You_ ,” he began, and then caught sight of Hunith sedately crossing the hallway, a whisk and bowl full of batter in her hands. “Shit,” Arthur said, and ducked away from the door.

“Brunch will be ready in twenty minutes,” Hunith called, apparently perfecting the art of selective hearing. “Photographs in three hours,” she added. Her footsteps faded down the stairs.

Mortified, Arthur stayed hidden behind the door. He glanced at Merlin, who had sunk to the floor and hidden his face in his hands. Arthur couldn’t see his expression, but he was sure it was at least as horrified as his own.

Will craned his head around the door and snarled, “If you ruin this for Freya, I’ll make sure they never find your bodies.” He stomped away.

Merlin let out a shaky laugh. “That wasn’t quite what I expected this morning,” he said from underneath his palms.

Arthur closed the door firmly and locked it, something he was pretty sure they had forgotten to do last night. “If I kill him, would that make Freya a widow since they’re not technically married yet?” he asked aloud.

Merlin didn’t even twitch.

“What’s the matter with you?” Arthur said, eyeing him warily.

Merlin let out a heavy sigh. He slid his hands away from his face and rubbed at his temples.

Arthur scowled and sat on the bed. “What is it?”

“I had a dream last night,” Merlin said hollowly. He flicked a glance at Arthur and looked down.

Arthur stiffened, the glance telling him more than he needed to know. “It was only a dream,” he said flatly, after a long moment.

Merlin glared at Arthur mulishly. “It _wasn’t_ just a dream,” he said. “I saw you. You were—in a lake. In the water.”

Arthur hunched over on his side of the bed, keeping stonily silent.

“You were unconscious,” Merlin continued haltingly. “I went in to save you, but the water was so murky. I could just see the glint of your chainmail, and I finally got you out of the water, but you were so heavy, I wasn’t sure if...” he trailed off.

Arthur bunched the bedsheets in his hands convulsively at the hurt in Merlin’s voice. He felt his stomach twist itself into knots again, and closed his eyes, trying to keep his eyes from stinging. He took a breath, and after a moment, looked steadily at Merlin, still huddled by the door. “I’m flattered you’re dreaming about me,” Arthur said, adding more than a touch of derision in his voice.

Merlin threw him a sharp look. “Why don’t you ever take this seriously?” he asked. “There’s something—something about us, and whenever we talk about it, you do your best to pretend it doesn’t happen.”

Arthur forcibly unclenched his fingers, making himself take a breath before answering. “There’s something about us, yeah. Something _wrong_ with us. Do you think us seeing these things is normal? What do you expect me to do? Try and help you analyse why you see me dying all the time?” he asked.

Merlin’s face fell. “No,” he said more quietly. “You’re not always—” he paused. “I see other things. You do too. But it’s all in bits and pieces. I want to know why we’re seeing things at all.”

“It—it doesn’t end well for us, Merlin. That’s what they’re trying to tell us. They’re warnings. And that’s why we can’t—” Arthur began, and cut himself off abruptly.

Merlin was staring at him, angry and wounded. “You don’t know that for certain. Not all of them are bad. Sometimes they’re just—us. Together.”

“Sometimes. But these memories, they’re not real—it was only a dream,” Arthur said, but couldn’t quite convince himself of his own words. He thought back to his last memory of Merlin, sinking back into the familiar feeling of Merlin’s quick smile and nimble hands.

“No,” Merlin said decidedly. “I know they’re real, the good ones and the bad. I don’t know when or where, but I was there with you.” Merlin’s voice was so quiet that Arthur had to strain to hear his words.

Arthur shuffled over to where Merlin was crouched, and sank to the floor next to him. “Look, I know how to swim, all right? Don’t be such an idiot,” he said, gently knocking his shoulder against Merlin’s.

Merlin made a noise that sounded like something between a laugh and a sob. “How, exactly, do you know how to swim?” he asked.

Arthur frowned at Merlin. “I took lessons and I learned. How else?” he asked, annoyed.

“Yeah. You learned,” Merlin said, voice hoarse, and looked at Arthur unblinkingly.

Arthur stared at him for a moment, saying nothing. He swallowed the lump in his throat, and turned away. “You’d better get dressed,” he said finally. “Will needs his best man with him today, and I can’t think of anyone better for the job.”

“Thanks,” Merlin said softly.

“You do know what they say, though: always the bridesmaid, never the bride,” Arthur said gruffly, unable to resist.

Merlin threw him a withering look, and began gathering his clothing from the floor, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like, “And whose fault is that?” which Arthur tactfully decided to ignore.

Arthur frowned and looked around the room at the disarray of their clothing. “Have you seen my boxers?”

“By the fireplace,” Merlin said, and stood up with an armful of clothing. He ran a hand across his hair. “I need a shower,” he mumbled, and padded toward the bathroom.

“Me too,” Arthur said distractedly, staring at the curve of Merlin’s spine. He hesitated for a fraction of a second before following Merlin into the bathroom. In the name of efficiency, it made sense for them to shower together. Arthur generously decided that at least for Freya’s sake he would valiantly restrain himself and not leave any lasting evidence on Merlin’s skin for the photo shoot.

____

Arthur’s favourite pub was a small establishment hidden in the basement of a restaurant located on a quiet side street. A faded sign, depicting a magnificent yellow dragon, hung by the stairs and was the only indication of its secretive location. Arthur always seemed to be the only patron. Normally he would despise such terrible business tactics, but here the drinks were strong, the decor tasteful, and the bartender always willing to listen to a tale of woe.

“I wish,” Arthur said emphatically to the bartender after his fourth beer, “I wish that I had never met him.”

The bartender looked at him with his golden eyes—Arthur may have had more than he ought to drink by now—and said nothing.

“Who knew Gaius—my physician, you know—” Arthur explained helpfully to the bartender, “had a nephew? Well, I guess Gaius knew he had a nephew. Or great-nephew. Something,” he said, frowning fuzzily down at his beer and trying to puzzle it out. “I trusted Gaius. He should have warned me about Merlin. Or made Merlin wear a sign that said ‘Danger’ on it. Yeah. That would’ve been good.”

The bartender, a good man, slid Arthur another beer. Arthur pounded the countertop loudly in appreciation and took a fresh pull.

“Lancelot too. I trusted him, but he had to go and get a flatmate, and of course Merlin was looking for a place to stay. But what did he need Merlin for? He had Gwen! He even told me he _slept in Merlin’s bed_ once. I always knew he would betray me,” Arthur said morosely.

The bartender may have coughed meaningfully at that, but Arthur paid no attention, wrapped up as he was in his vilification.

“Now, as for Morgana, she just does it on purpose, inviting him to all her parties. Because she’s evil like that. She knows Merlin and alcohol don’t mix. Especially for me.” That last bit Arthur may not have admitted while sober, but Arthur figured the bartender knew how to keep a secret. “It’s Merlin’s fault, too, since he keeps popping up everywhere. Especially at weddings. Like a—like a fungus!” Arthur was triumphant at having thought up an appropriate insult. He looked around hopefully, but Merlin wasn’t there to hear it. Arthur sulked.

“Perhaps your paths were always meant to cross,” the bartender said. “Sometimes paths can be so entangled you can’t separate one from the other even after lifetimes apart.”

Arthur scoffed loudly. “That’s a load of rubbish. I’m not even thirty yet.”

The bartender sighed, which Arthur thought rather rude. “Do you have regrets?” the bartender asked with a long-suffering air.

“What do you think I’m doing here?” Arthur asked, squinting at him hazily.

“If you could live your life over, would you make the same mistakes, or would you be wise enough to learn from them? What would you change if you could?” the bartender persisted.

“I’d make Merlin less shaggable,” Arthur said promptly, downing the last of his beer. “Or maybe just shaggable. Yeah, just shaggable, no talking or memories or any of that other crazy stuff.” He nodded emphatically to himself.

The bartender looked at him incredulously, and Arthur thought it would be best not to leave much of a tip for that kind of service. He’d tell his friends not to come here, either. That would show him.

“Young Pendragon,” the bartender said, his voice suddenly sounded much deeper and more menacing. Arthur straightened up in his stool and tried not to jump out of his skin when the bartender reached out to put a fiery hot hand on his forehead. His headache was instantly gone and he felt stone cold sober. “Listen carefully,” the bartender continued. “A man like that comes along once in a thousand years. Would you push him away and spend the next thousand chasing after him, or would you strengthen the bond you have now and remain together all of your days?”

“I—” Arthur said, at a complete loss for words.

“Go to him, young Pendragon, and show yourself to be the man you are,” the bartender said, and withdrew his hand.

Arthur fished out an unnecessary amount of notes from his wallet to leave on the counter, his hands shaking. He fled, feeling the bartender’s burning touch on his forehead all the way home.

____

“Are you sure about this?” Merlin whispered doubtfully, his eyes darting nervously around the crowded room.

“Not in the least,” Arthur whispered back, and kicked at Merlin’s shoe. “Be quiet.”

“Sorry,” Merlin grumbled, and settled back in his chair.

Arthur shot Merlin an extra glare for good measure, then turned his attention back to where his parents were standing at the front of the hall. Uther, looking dapper in a dark suit and navy blue tie that Arthur had helped him pick out, stood holding hands with Ygraine. He looked absolutely besotted. Ygraine seemed more composed but no less happy. She fairly sparkled in her golden gown, never taking her eyes off Uther. Geoffrey, the same ordained librarian who had married Uther and Ygraine at their wedding thirty years ago, stood behind them.

“Dear friends and family, we are gathered here today to celebrate a momentous event,” Geoffrey began, his voice echoing across the hall. “Thirty years ago, we watched Ygraine and Uther embark on a journey of a new life together. Today, they have asked the honour of your presence, friends new and old, as they renew their vows to each other.”

“I’ve never seen him so happy,” Arthur said to Merlin out of the corner of his mouth as Uther began reciting his vows. When Merlin didn’t reply, Arthur made the mistake of glancing at him in annoyance. Merlin was paying absolutely no attention to Arthur, instead listening attentively to Uther’s vows and smiling softly, his eyes dreamy. No doubt he was imagining his own wedding anniversary that Arthur was not going to be part of in any way, shape, or form. “You’re not going to _cry_ , are you?” Arthur demanded, and reached out to touch Merlin’s hand. As he touched Merlin’s hand, he slipped quietly into another memory.

_“I always thought that if things had been different, we’d have been good friends,” Merlin said, crouched next to him by the crackling fire of their makeshift camp. “Things never turn out how you expect.”_

_“Yeah,” Arthur said simply. His own words seemed inadequate whenever Merlin spoke of their relationship, nature and habit preventing him from speaking what he felt. Instead, he reached into his belongings, bringing out a pouch. He shook out a medallion, heavy in his hands, one of his most valued possessions. “This belonged to my mother. It bears her sigil,” he said, and pressed the medallion into Merlin’s hand._

_“Arthur, I can’t,” Merlin protested._

_“Just—take it,” Arthur insisted, and felt it was a gift freely given for the look in Merlin’s eyes that he received in return._

“Arthur?” Merlin said. His fingers curled around Arthur’s hand. “Are you all right?”

Arthur blinked several times, grounding himself in the present. His gaze focused on Merlin’s face, and he felt himself smile involuntarily. He shook his head silently at Merlin’s questioning look, and turned back to ceremony, not letting go of Merlin’s hand.

“With this garland, I bind your hands and your hearts,” Geoffrey said as he wrapped the vine around Uther and Ygraine’s wrists, joining their hands together. Arthur felt his smile growing wider.

“May your love continue to last a lifetime,” Geoffrey concluded. The room erupted into cheers and applause as Uther and Ygraine kissed each other to end the ceremony.

“Come on,” Arthur said, squeezing Merlin’s hand and leading him forward. “Time to change our expectations. Maybe we get a happy ending after all.”

“What?” Merlin said, sounding confused. He flinched a little when he apparently realised that Arthur was leading them toward Uther and Ygraine. “Wait! Right now?” he asked anxiously, letting his hand slip out of Arthur’s.

Arthur grimaced, rubbing at his forehead ruefully. “I’ve been told it would be a bad idea to wait.”

“There you are, Arthur,” Uther said stepping toward him. He swept Arthur into a one-armed hug, pounding his back good-naturedly.

“Congratulations, Father,” Arthur said, returning the hug. He turned to Ygraine and kissed her cheek, and held her hand for an extra moment. “Congratulations, Mother.”

“Arthur, darling,” Ygraine said affectionately. “Thank you.”

Arthur cleared his throat nervously. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet,” he said, feeling his skin prickle in embarrassment. He grit his teeth and beckoned Merlin closer, seeing Uther and Ygraine trade wordless looks as he did so. “This is Merlin, my—” Arthur faltered while Merlin stared at him, red-faced, “—my guest,” he finished weakly.

“Ah. Finally, the mysterious plus one,” Uther said. He put his hands on Merlin’s shoulders to look him critically up and down. Merlin stood frozen during the inspection with what appeared to be absolute terror. After what Arthur felt was an agonising eternity, Uther nodded once and stepped away. “Good to have you at the head table,” he said finally, and clapped Merlin on the shoulder.

“Uther, don’t scare him like that,” Ygraine chided, gently pushing Uther aside. Merlin blinked at her, and managed to give her a feeble smile. Ygraine took Merlin’s outstretched hand in both of her own. “Welcome. It’s lovely to meet you, Merlin,” she said, beaming at him.

Arthur stood quietly next to Uther and Ygraine as they received their congratulations from the other guests. Merlin tried to slip away, but Arthur glared meaningfully at him until he took his place by Arthur’s side. Merlin looked simultaneously so lost and so pleased that Arthur was forced to take pity on him. As soon as dinner was announced and the guests asked to move to the dining hall, Arthur dragged Merlin to the toilets for a shag.

At least that part of his wish was still true.

___

“You’re late,” Morgana said, rising from her seat as Arthur and Merlin finally made their way to the head table. Aware of his dishevelled appearance, Arthur adjusted his tie discreetly under Morgana’s sharp gaze. Morgana lifted her eyebrows at him knowingly, and completely unfairly, then turned to Merlin with a smile. “Merlin, let me introduce you to my father, Gorlois. He was Uther’s best man at their wedding.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Gorlois said, his bearded face breaking into a smile as he shook Merlin’s hand heartily.

“Of course, you know Gaius and Alice,” Morgana said, taking Merlin’s arm and guiding him around the table. “They were part of the wedding party as well.”

“Merlin, my boy, I didn’t expect to see you here,” Gaius said warmly.

“Believe me, I never expected to either,” Merlin said, laughing, giving Gaius and Alice each a hug. Gaius turned to give Arthur a raised eyebrow, and Arthur shifted uncomfortably in his chair, pretending not to notice.

“And you must remember Nimueh and Morgause,” Morgana said to Merlin archly. “Flower girls at the wedding.”

Merlin turned pink, and managed to squeak out a hello. Oddly, both Nimueh and Morgause inclined their heads politely to him, but said nothing. Once Merlin was back in his seat, they turned to stare at Arthur as if they were a pair of hawks and he were a particularly delicious rodent for them to devour.

Arthur refused to be intimidated and stared them back down. Apparently Nimueh and Morgause hadn’t yet forgotten the way he and Merlin had made spectacles of themselves at their wedding last year. Fair enough, the wedding cake had taken ages to get out of his hair, and he had had to pay a fortune in dry cleaning afterwards. Even so, wedding cakes were meant to be eaten, and Merlin’s body was all perfect planes and angles, so Arthur couldn’t be blamed for combining the two. All the same, Arthur was glad that they were on the opposite side of the table, and that he was nowhere near sharp utensil range. 

Fortunately, Uther and Ygraine arrived at that moment, taking their seats, still holding hands and smiling at each other. Arthur inwardly shook his head affectionately at them, but stood to tap his fork repeatedly against his crystal goblet to attract the room’s attention. Gradually, the conversation of the dining hall died down.

“I would like to propose a toast,” Arthur said to the room at large, aware of all eyes on him. “For thirty years, my parents have loved each other. One always hears of stories where partnerships don’t work out for one reason or another.” His gaze was immediately drawn to Merlin, who looked back at him wide-eyed. Arthur swallowed, and continued, “But this isn’t one of them. May they serve as an example to all of us here, and may we wish them another thirty years and more of joy. To Ygraine and Uther!” he said, raising his glass, and bowing to his parents.

“To Ygraine and Uther!” the guests echoed, and raised their glasses in turn.

Arthur turned to Merlin, who smiled back at him, and clinked their glasses together.

___

_Uther and Ygraine Pendragon_  
 _and Balinor and Hunith Emrys_  
 _cordially invite you to attend the wedding of their sons,_  
 _Arthur Pendragon_  
 _and_  
 _Merlin Emrys_  
 _on the 20th of October_  
 _Two thousand and thirteen_  
 _at Albion Hotel_  
 _26 Camelot Road_

“They’re absolutely hideous,” Arthur said, looking down at the sample invitation in heavy red paper embossed with golden lettering. He frowned down at it fiercely.

“I like them,” Merlin said, grinning like a fool.

“Of course you would. And why is my name first?” Arthur said, crossing his arms.

“Did you want your name after mine, then?” Merlin asked, grinning even wider.

“No!” Arthur said, after struggling with the idea for a moment.

“Then I guess you’ll just have to live with it,” Merlin said, laughing, and pulled Arthur down for a kiss.

Arthur threw up his hands in exasperation before kissing Merlin back, resigning himself to his destiny.

___

“I can’t believe you,” Arthur said blearily, dumping Merlin unceremoniously onto the bed. He struggled to stay upright before giving up and collapsing on the bed himself. He mustered up enough energy to strip Merlin and himself of their clothing, but to his dismay couldn’t manage anything more strenuous. “It’s our wedding night and you’re _falling asleep_. We’re supposed to be having sex.”

Merlin yawned enormously and rolled over to tuck himself against Arthur’s side. “Morgana had a bet going,” he said drowsily. “She said we’d spent too much time shagging at other people’s weddings to actually end up doing it at our own.”

“Of _course_ she did,” Arthur muttered resentfully, and drew the blanket over them both.

_end_


End file.
